Inspired by Reb Kalonymos Kalman's ideal of a group of people coming together with the common goal of enhancing their service of God, increasing their sensitivity to all things spiritual, strengthening their love of acheinu kol beis Yisrael, and unlocking the enormous potential that we all have to cleave to the Almighty.

Interaction and discussion of practical ideas and concepts toward this end, culled from anyTorah true source is welcome and appreciated.

Observations and personal experiences are also welcome; the point is to grow!

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

(Reposted here by Shmuel's request. I wasn't all that impressed with the piece myself.)

The word “frum” has become a near-synonym for Orthodox. How this came to be is noteworthy.

“Frum” descends from the German “fromm“, meaning pious or devout. In pre-war Yiddish, usage appears to have varied widely. On the one hand, those who named their daughters “Fruma” clearly thought being frum as complementary. On the other, there was an idiom, or as Rav Aharon Kotler often put it, “Frum iz a galech; ehrlich iz a Yid – the town priest is ‘pious’, a Jew is refined.” I also heard the first part from Bergers of that same generation, “frum iz a galech“. Admittedly, both data points from Lithuanian Iddish.

How did the word “frum”, then, ever catch on in the Yeshiva world, a community that aspires for continuity with the yeshivos of Lithuania? How did a word go from being a scornful description of the wrong kind of religiosity to a self-label?

I think that’s it’s for the same reason why kids who are eating at McDonald’s are branded “at risk”, but those who are chronic liars are not. The first group are “at risk” in the sense of their risk of leaving the community and no longer staying exposed to our values — and thus losing the likelihood of returning. Which means we’re defining ourselves by how we differ from non-Orthodox Jews and non-Jews — not by what’s most important.

To some extent, when we use it as a self-identification, we are still thinking of frum in its original, ritual centric, meaning. A frum Jew is one who belongs to our community, and thus is following Orach Chaim, Even haEzer and Yoreh Dei’ah. And as implied by my comparison, this is an important threshold — it’s the line between someone who wishes to remain influenced by our teachings and culture, and those who do not. But it does not accurately reflect priorities. “Ehrlich is a yid.”

It is the original derogatory usage which is clearly the starting point for Rav Shelmo Wolbe’s essay on Frumkeit, in Alei Shur II pp 152-155. R’ Wolbe takes the informal usage of yore and gives it a robust, specific, technical meaning. In his hands, the word “frumkeit” refers to an etiology for a specific kind of cul-de-sac on the path of religious growth.

As you may have noticed following this blog, I am a strong advocate for a thoughtful and passionate approach to religious observance. As the name says, a fusion of passionate aish with the rigor of das’s law-based rite forming a new thing, a new word, “AishDas“. But in my discussion of thoughtful Judaism, I have always presumed the antonym of thoughtless Judaism, observance based on habit, on culture. Putting on tefillin merely because “that’s what is done.”

Rav Wolbe notes a different alternative to thoughtfulness — instinct. To Rav Wolbe, frumkeit is an instinctive drive to be close to the Creator. It is not even specific to humans; the frumkeit instinct is what King David refers to when he writes, “כְּפִירִים שֹׁאֲגִים לַטָּרֶף, וּלְבַקֵּשׁ מֵאֵ-ל אָכְלָם — lion cubs roar at their prey, and request from G-d their food.” (Tehillim 104:21) And, “נוֹתֵן לִבְהֵמָה לַחְמָהּ, לִבְנֵי עֹרֵב אֲשֶׁר יִקְרָאוּ — He gives the animal its food, before the ravens who cry.” (147:9)

What can go wrong with something that draws us to the Almighty, even if it is instinctive? Instincts are inherently about survival, self-preservation. As we see in the pesuqim cited in Alei Shur, the lion cub and the raven calls out to Hashem to get their food. Rather than being motivated by thoughtfulness, frumkeit is the use of religion to serve my ends.

A while back I posted on my blog, Aspaqlaria, about something I called the paradox of performing mitzvos bein adam lachaveiros lishmah — doing interpersonal mitzvos for the sake of the mitzvah:

What is the purpose of such mitzvos? To develop feelings of love and caring toward others; to expand our natural focus on ourselves to include others. Does the lishmah (lit: for itself) mean doing the mitzvah for the sake of doing a mitzvah? If it does, then we are not focusing on caring for other people, we are focusing on Hashem. On the other hand, if we define lishmah as being “for the purpose for which we were given the mitzvah (as best we can understand it)”, we would conclude that mitzvah bein adam lachaveiro “for itself” means doing it without thought to its being a mitzvah. As I said, a paradox.

Rav Wolbe quotes the Alter of Slabodka’s treatment of this question:

“Ve’ahavta lereiakha komakha — and you shall love your peers like yourself.” That you should love your peer the way you love yourself. You do not love yourself because it is a mitzvah, rather, a plain love. And that is how you should love your peer.“

To which Rav Wolbe notes, “This approach is entirely alien to frumkeit.” The frum person is the one who makes sure to have Shabbos guests each week, but whose guests end up feeling much like his tefillin — an object with which he did a mitzvah. A person acting out of frumkeit doesn’t love to love, he loves in order to be a holier person. And ironically, he thereby fails — because he never develops that Image of the Holy One he was created to become. The person who acts from self-interest, even from the interest of ascending closer to G-d, will not reach Him.

One must approach a mitzvah with a drive to see the deed done, rather than the self-interested drive to be the one doing it. This is “mimaaqim qarasikha Hashem — from the depths I call out to you, Hashem.” I reach for G-d not while instinctively grasping for loftiness, focusing on how can I make me more lofty, but when I subdue myself for the sake of the deed. To honor Shabbos out of a sense of honor, to give to the poor because one feels such love and empathy that nothing else would be thinkable.

This is why mussar is primarily a study of da’as, of wisdom and thoughtfulness.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

As an addendum to his essay on bitachon and hishtadlut, Rav Dessler gives us several practical suggestions for maintaining a healthy balance between the two. Again, this text is from Michtav M'Eliyahu, Vol. 1 (Bitachon v'Hishtadlut)*:

We explained above that one can minimize endeavor only to a certain extent. The proviso is that one is strong enough to withstand the tests that may result without feeling sorry that one started on the path of faith in the first place. We should therefore look for ways to lessen the risk by strengthening our ability to meet challenges of this sort. Here are some suggestions.

Train yourself to be satisfied with less in the way of worldly goods. The less you need, the easier it will be for you to cut down on physical endeavor and the less dangerous will be the test. As our Sages said (Avot 6:4) "The way of Torah is to eat dry bread and salt and drink water by the measure..."

Pray with devotion until you recognize that everything comes from HaShem. Then even if you don't succeed in your endeavors you will know that your lack of success, too, is decreed by Heaven. The deeper you realization of this truth, the less likely you will be to regret the course you have adopted.

Reflect constantly on the importance of trust in HaShem. Read about trust in our holy sources. Even when you are engaged in necessary physical endeavor be aware that you are only fulfilling the decree "By the sweat of your brow, etc." (Gen. 3:19) Realize that what you will have is decreed and the extent of your endeavor will not alter this. All this will serve to strengthen your faith. Be prepared to close your ears to the taunts of those who call you "good for nothing" and similar epithets. Better to be called this and worse, than to abandon one's principles. Remember the words of our Sages (Eduyot 5:6): "Better I should be called a fool all my life than be a rasha before God for one hour."

When a person has to do something which he feels is unworthy of him he is affected by a sense of shame and is impelled to do it in private. This is an instinct implanted by HaShem, and dates from after the sin of Adam. before that the Torah says "...and they were not ashamed." (Gen 2:25) At that time physical desire was not within their experience at all. But afterwards, since it became impossible for a human being to achieve complete unselfishness, he was endowed with a sense of modesty which taught him to be ashamed of selfish physical desire. Similarly with economic endeavor, even thought the person may have no choice (after all, it was Adam's sin that brought this upon us), he should still engage in it with as much modesty as possible. He should experience a sense of shame that he has to do actions which seem to contradict the all-pervading power of HaShem. Just as modesty is effective in limiting physical desire, so it is with physical endeavor; modesty and restraint can serve to keep it within proper bounds. There is an interesting comment by the Vilna Gaon on the word "cheresh" used in connection with the sending of the two spies by Yehoshua. He writes: "This means that he sent them in silence...so that they should not fail as the earlier spies did." This provides remarkable confirmation of what we said above [in the essay].

"Make your Torah fixed and your work casual." (Avot 1:15). To achieve this one has to make Torah one's main ambition. One must strengthen one's determination to achieve success in Torah to such an extent that one is prepared to give up one's life for it, in accordance with the words of our Sages. When one's life-ambition is for spiritual things this will automatically lessen the urge for physical endeavor and one will also spend less time on material things generally. He will accordingly be less prone to regrets if he is not so successful in the material sphere. Regret is after all only a function of unfulfilled ambition.